Improv Metric

I’ve been toying with an idea in my head for a little while, and I can’t quite seem to get my mind into it. Let me explain. In chemistry, for instance, someone might ask me how much of a certain compound is in a solution. Easy, I figure out the concentration (using Science!), and give them the result. If they already knew the concentration, they could grade me based on how close I got to the correct result. This much I understand, but what I can’t, really, is how you judge an improv show.

I can ask a group of improvisers “What is the best show you’ve ever seen?” and “What is the worst show you’ve ever seen”, and will immediately get answers, but the harder question is “Why?” What would also be a fun experiment would be to compare the results of that brief questionnaire to a non-improviser, where you might be surprised at the disparity between the two tastes. My point is simply that there is a concept in science that expectation changes observation, which is kind of tied into Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. (That little gem says that we can never know the position and speed of subatomic particles because by the sheer observation of them, the impact of the light we used to observe them causes them to change. In quantum mechanics (This is an improv blog, right?), we only describe subatomic things by certainties, as in “It’s Friday, so there is a 75% chance that Chris George is at the movie theatre”, but never “It’s Friday, so Chris George is at the movie theatre, because he is lame (only 25% odds on that, ladies.))

But expectation changing observation goes further into the world than the mysterious tale of the quanta; the idea is that because we are looking for stuff (scientific term), we change what we see because we filter it through the current frame of mind that we are observing things. For example, when Gregor Mendel’s pea plant experiments (the hereditary ones that proved recessive/dominant traits) were repeated in modern day, it was discovered that Mendel’s recorded observations were closer to “theoretical” than to “experimental”. Did he forge scientific data? Maybe, but he saw what he wanted (or needed, maybe) because that’s what he predicted. (I may be a heathen, but I won’t call a monk/father of hereditary genetics a liar.) We can never fully, objectively observe anything, because we focus on the things that prove our point. (Experiment you can try at home! 1. Go to a bar and look for an attractive woman/man/woman-man/whatever floats your boat because we make no judgments here. 2. Catch her eye, and watch as you instantly misinterpret a “getting a stray eyelash” gesture for a “Come over here, sexy man/woman/man-woman/whatever. 3. Science!)

Therefore, if we can never truly observe anything, then we can never truly judge anything. Thus, my Grand Improvisational Corollary is: 1.) We are improvisers, so we have trained in classes, workshops, and rehearsals. 2.) The average audience member (excluding those guys who are also improvisers) has not. 3.) Neither side will ever observe the same show, because both have a different set of expectations. 4.) No non-improvisers write improvisational blogs, so we can get away with saying just about anything.

The Harold Theory: Part 2

The twelve questionnaires for the first show revealed the following data: six subjects had seen some form of improvisation prior to the show, six answered that they definitively had not (one sheet put it simply: “No.”), had not seen any live, or did not answer the question. Of those that had seen some form of improv previously, there were three instances of 'Whose Line', three of NCT, and four I defined as “other” (meaning any reference to a group not explicitly named in the question which did include one instance of iO West). Note that this adds up to more than the number in the “yes” group – multiple named groups on a single sheet were each counted. One individual noted four different group instances as well as noting that he was an “improv junkie” (glad we could provide a fix). One individual in the “non” group stated that he had only seen primarily stand up. As this was not improv, this was not counted into the six affirmative improv watchers group.

The four questionnaires from the second show, one instance of Second City was mentioned, the other three mentioned no other groups or organizations.

A number of subjects used the questionnaire to air grievances (“Music is too loud”), or to single out specific players or scenes. This occurred both in positive and negative lights. Most took the sheets to provide constructive criticism on scenework technique for the group as a whole. From the first show, ten individuals responded yes to whether they enjoyed the piece, the other two did not answer the question (hope we did, guys). In the second show, all four responded positively that they did enjoy the Harold. In the second set, half (n=2) replied that they enjoyed how the different “plots” interweaved – one individual even stating that he thought the beginning was confusing, but then he “caught on.” Only two people answering the sheets in the first show explicitly stated that they would like an explanation of what the Harold is (17%). No one explicitly made that request in the second show. Of those two, one stated “Maybe an explanation of what the Harold is?”, so the author is not sure if this is trepidation about asking the question or perhaps not being sure if he needed a reply. A few in show one (n=3) replied with some variation on wishing for more structure, or being a little confused, but none of these sheets said they couldn't understand the piece. Instead, it seems that there was only difficulty in understanding the show (which may be related to us, in my objective opinion, no where near our best work in the past). Three people also replied that the piece was either “slow”, “too long”, or should have been “shorter”. Clearly, longer, meandering and confusing scenework may contribute to some difficulty in understanding the piece. If the players are struggling and the piece becomes amorphous as a result, then it will be difficult to follow for even experienced and informed players.

These results are comforting; they seem to indicate that a minimalist approach to explaining the Harold is sufficient to ensure an audience's enjoyment. I have on more than one occasion witnessed an audience glaze over during an explanation of a game or piece, so my recommendation would be to skip explanations of games and forms entirely (I'm looking at you “What are you doing!”) whenever possible. Certainly, the fewer hard rules in a particular section, the less needs to be explained. Games like “Fresh Choice” rely on the rules in order for the scene to function, but contrast to the Harold, which really has no rules, and can function with only a minor amount of structure.

The current study instrument is sufficient as a questionnaire, but the questions will need to be reworded for future work, as they don't currently assess the proposed theory sufficiently – instead, most subjects focused on answering whether parts of the show were confusing, instead of whether knowing the “rules” was instrumental to understanding. The difficulty is in designing questions that keep the focus on this area of research without leading audience members to a particular conclusion. This study is being expanded, so if you have a group that would be interested in joining the study, please contact me for instructions. All improv, short and long, is currently being investigated.